Longings
by Martin III
Summary: [Shining the Holy Ark] Though Arthur, Melody, and Rodi's journey to become Innovators did not truly begin until Arthur and Melody cornered Rodi in the Cave of Desire, the seeds of their destiny were sown long before.  Spoiler free.


Author's Notes:

This story is sort of a pilot. Besides my intent to produce an interesting background piece, I wrote it as practice for working with the characters of Shining the Holy Ark, and as a means of testing reader satisfaction and interest. Let me know if you like how I'm handling the characters, and I'll set an adventure-style Shining the Holy Ark tale on my queue of stuff to write. Otherwise, let me know what I'm doing wrong.

Technical Notes: The milieu and characters of this fanfic are property of Sega. This story is set roughly ten years before Shining the Holy Ark, during the adolescence of the protagonists.

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Longings

The limber youth easily picked himself off the wooden floor, a sullen look upon his face. After bowing to his opponent, he removed his headband and wiped the heavy sweat from his brow. "Father... this is pointless."

"You give up much too quickly, Rodi."

"I'm not giving up. I know that I can master Ninjitsu, whatever it takes." He leaned back against the wall of the hut, the headband still in his hand. "When I say this is pointless, it's not an excuse; it's a fact."

The Lord drew his blade from its place on the table in an instant and struck against Rodi's right arm, drawing the slimmest of cuts. The boy gave a soft yelp at the pain. "Impudence doesn't become you, Rodi."

"And what _does_ become me?" Rodi returned, rubbing away the blood that trickled from his arm. "Training to master techniques that must never be used? How can you not see how pointless that is? And the most galling thing is that it doesn't have to be pointless! We could be using our talents out there to do good... fight evil..."

"You speak with the rashness and simple-mindedness of youth," the Lord said. By the way he stood unmoving, sword held limp in one hand yet at the ready, he appeared as firm as a mountain. "United here, we of the Far East Village can support and teach one another, in both the ways of Ninjitsu and the ways of good and evil. But if we spread out into the world, divide ourselves, we forget those ways, and we lose our sense of selves and what we fight for. A rogue ninja abandons his training when it is incomplete, heads out into the world when he is not ready, and soon perishes. Even worse, separated from each other we can lose our sense of good and evil. When that happens, we begin choosing for ourselves what is right and what is wrong, and imposing that belief on others. If we take that course, it would be better for us to have never learned the ways of Ninjitsu at all."

"Sounds like an elaborate excuse to me."

"I can't expect someone your age to understand these things, Rodi," the Lord sighed, sheathing his blade. "But why can't you be more like Panzer, trusting to our wisdom without question?"

"Panzer!?" Rodi exploded. He could barely restrain his body from releasing his anger into an act of violence. "How can you, the Lord of our village, be so unjust!? I speak my concern to you in honesty and respect, and you strike me like a maladjusted dog. Panzer murmurs the same complaints behind your back, in cowardice, and you praise him for his behavior! Forgive me, Father, but if that is the way to earn your respect, I don't think I can place any more value on your words."

The Lord paused a moment, then sternly shook his head. "I have noticed no sign of rebellion from Panzer."

"Then you haven't been paying attention."

"But it isn't Panzer we're discussing; it's you. Forgive me for bringing him up." Rodi bit his lip to keep the obvious(and not at all funny) pun from escaping his mouth. "Perhaps I should indeed compliment you, as well, for speaking your mind. But if you won't understand, and you won't trust, then will you at least have patience? The time may come when we have a part to play in one of the many struggles between good and evil in our world. But that time is not now, and if you venture out into the world instead of preparing for that time, you will not be ready when it comes."

Rodi was silent. He lifted his headband, still clutched tightly in his hand, and wrapped it back around his head. He walked to the table, picked up his sword, and strapped it to his back. With a deep breath, he turned again to face his father.

"I don't consider this preparing: to sit and train for nothing. To prepare is to practice one's skills in the purpose they're intended for."

The Lord of the village cast his eyes to the ground. "You mean to become rogue, then, my son? If not now, then after a few more years of training?"

"No, father. If I have nothing else, I have respect for my elders. Until you free me to act otherwise, I will follow your orders." He sighed within. _After all... maybe he is right. Until I am sure of myself beyond doubt, I'd be arrogant to go against him._

_Even though the alternative... is to do nothing while the world shifts and turns..._

Rodi clenched his fists in frustration, and whispered to himself, "Someday. Someday I will make a difference."

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Rimel put on an extra burst of speed as he came out into the clearing, but Melody remained as swift and flighty as a deer. She seemed to constantly dance just out of reach, though he could never get within two meters of her. She laughed merrily at his ineffectual pursuit.

At last it became too much, and Rimel collapsed onto the grassy ground, completely exhausted. Gasping for breath, he turned his head to see Melody seated beneath the shade of a large oak tree not far from him, her legs bent in front of her as she rested back against her hands. Even in the drab brown dress she wore, she looked as carefree and lively as a Spring festival.

Panting evenly for breath, she smiled brightly and commented, "Nice chase."

When he finally managed to heave in sufficient oxygen to his lungs, he said to her sulkily, "If you really liked me, you'd let me catch you."

"You're right. I would."

Taken aback, he stammered out, "Well... then why do you hang out with me at all, huh?"

"Just for the fun of it."

Rimel had managed to get back most of his breath by now, and hoping to take her by surprise he made a mad lunge for her. But she moved like the wind, leaping up to grab hold of the lowest branch of the tree she'd sat beneath. She pulled herself up onto the branch in a matter of seconds.

"Melody! I can't climb up there!"

"Yah! That's kind of the point."

"Why don't you like me, huh?"

"You're a pest." Melody got up onto her hands and knees, shinnying along the branch. She came within reach of a higher branch and climbed onto it. "Hanging with you wouldn't be so annoying if you weren't so grabby. If I want a hug, I'll ask for one! Got it?"

"Zod, you think just like a little kid!" He kicked idly at the trunk of the tree.

"Golly! A second ago I was with someone who doesn't understand the words 'Hands off'; now all of a sudden I'm talking to Lord Maturity!"

"What I'm saying is, with that kind of attitude you'll never get a boyfriend."

She cocked her head at him. The lively grin had yet to leave her face. "Which means what?"

"It means you won't be able to get married, move into a new home, be the lady of your own farm, raise a family..."

"Yuck!" She leaned back against the trunk of the tree, her smile finally giving way to a serious expression. "That's just the sort of thing I _don't_ want to do."

Rimel stared up at her, astonished. "Huh? Why not?"

"Because it's boring." She looked up at the sky, and he followed her gaze. It _was_ rather beautiful, he supposed, all blue with flecks of white. "Someone out there was kind and generous enough to give me this life. I'm not going to waste it."

"You think it's a waste to have a husband, to have children?"

"Oh, I'll have kids, sure. But not the way you were talking about. I'm not going to sit on my fanny the rest of my life."

"What can you do that's any better? Coming from a nowhere farming town..."

"I'm not going to stick around this place forever." She broke off a small branch from the tree and whipped it around. "I want to go out into the world... be an adventurer!"

"Sounds dangerous."

"Oh, sure," she answered gravely. "Monsters out there, and bandits too. All types of danger in the wide world. That's what makes it exciting." She pushed aside a wave of her long hair. "When your heart's pounding with excitement - that's when you're really living."

Rimel folded his arms confidently. "You'll have to give up that crazy dream sooner or later. For one thing, you need training to be an adventurer!"

"I can train myself. Remember that strange man who came through a few months ago? He left this book behind, and... never mind." Her legs clenched around the tree branch, and she let herself fall backwards. She dangled in mid-air, held up only by her bent legs, her hair streaming straight down from her head. "You'll see. Someday I'll be the greatest adventurer in the world."

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The axe was terribly old. When he at last let it rest in the flesh of the tree, Arthur gingerly tended to his hands, pulling loose several splinters he'd acquired from the ancient axe. However, most of the splinters were buried too deep in the fat, knobby calluses of his hands to be plucked out. For some reason, this realization made Arthur's eyes wet, a trio of tears trickling down.

"Arthur! Are you slacking off again!?"

At the sound of that voice, the plain yet sharp-eyed boy wiped away the strange tears, though he doubted they could be differentiated from the many droplets of sweat upon his face. He turned to face the tall, muscular man who approached him. "I am not. I was just resting my hands for a moment."

"Yeah, yeah... one 'moment'. Don't think I don't know how thin the line is between a moment and a half hour, Arthur. That wood needs to be done by dinnertime."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I can't do it," he replied in a peeved tone. "I am dead tired, and I just can't work that fast."

"Ah, Zod," the man groaned. "Complaints and excuses again. I knew I was too soft on you in your youth."

"I never had a youth!" Arthur snapped, kicking the axe loose from the tree. "Ever since I was six, I've done nothing but work for you like a mule. It never stops, and I'm tired! Just... tired." He let out a gasp of breath and slouched forward. Even this simple emotional outburst seemed to have exhausted him.

The man seized Arthur by the shoulder of his worn vest and yanked him up to his full height. "You'd better watch that temper of yours, Arthur, and show some respect for your father."

His courage aroused, Arthur stared back into his eyes and said without any note of self-doubt, "You're not my father."

They were silent for a moment. "You know I'm always reluctant to use the rod, Artie, but you are _this close_ to getting a beating you'll never forget."

Arthur involuntarily flinched. He wasn't flattering himself about the reluctance; Arthur had only been ordered to drop his trousers twice in his life. But the memorableness of those two times had a bit to do with it, too. Though he bore no permanent bruises, just the prospect of getting another beating was generally enough to keep him in line.

"Now... are you going to work harder on watching that temper of yours, and get back to work so that you can be finished by dinnertime?"

He swallowed. _No. Just say no! Stop letting him force you to do exactly what he wants every second of the day! He can't beat you every single day of your life. Sooner or later he'll have to give up..._

"Are you?"

He flinched again. His throat felt unbelievably dry. "Yes..."

"Yes who?" the man demanded, folding his arms.

"Yes, master," he said softly.

"What did you say!?"

Arthur trembled for a moment, then let out a sigh that sounded as weak as a child's. "Yes, father."

"Good. Then get to it."

Without wasting another word, Arthur picked up the axe from where it had fallen, hands tensing slightly at the prickly feel of the worn-down handle, and resumed chopping. He put his best effort in towards the unreachable goal of finishing by dinnertime. The monotonous tone of wood splitting once more droned on, as the axe felt heavier and heavier in his weary arms.

But to himself he whispered, "Someday. Someday I'll be free."

END


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